


York Killing Me, Here

by Steel_Dragon



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-19 15:12:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4750973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steel_Dragon/pseuds/Steel_Dragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>York never did learn to let things go, even after he died.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. She's not dead

Agent York woke up in a room. This room was barren, York himself being the only thing in the white expanse. There was so much light, not a single shadow was cast about, making the room give an appearance of having no walls. The only thing that him know he was in a room was the door directly in front of him. It was both simple and ornate at the same time, delicate carvings etched into the fine wood.

The door opened. York stared as a relatively tall man stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. He had an evenly tanned face with high cheekbones. His white blond hair was set off by deep, piercing blue eyes that flitted over the soldier in the middle of the room. He made a small humming noise, taking a few steps into the room.

“Adam Youngblood, male, thirty-two years old,” His voice was soothing, like a classical song played in a low key. York found himself trusting the man, though he’d never seen him before.

“How do you know all that?” He asked, his right eyebrow arching. It was hard for him to move his left eyebrow anymore. The accident that had ruined his eye had damaged some of the muscles and nerves on that side of his face.

“Aliases Agent New York, Foxtrot-12,” The stranger continued, not bothering to answer

his question.  His striking eyes had met York’s gaze and was holding it steady. Looking closely, he had long eyelashes that brushed against his cheeks when he blinked. “Two bullet wounds to the upper left chest.”

York froze. That’s right; Wyoming had shot him. His hand darted up to his chest where there had been a searing pain before he had passed out. There was no burning sensation now. He blinked, realizing for the first time he wasn’t wearing his armor. Instead, he was wearing a white dress shirt, a white vest, and white dress pants. There was no trace of color in any of his new attire. He frowned.

“What are you..?”

“Mr. Youngblood,” The man finally stopped rattling off information, addressing York for the first time, “Welcome to the afterlife.”

“The afterlife?” York scoffed, “If this is someone’s idea of a joke, it’s not funny. Oh, and call me York.”

“I can assure you, this is no joke,” The blond stated calmly, “You died of two bullet wounds and a fatal amount of morphine.” That must have been Delta’s doing. His A.I. had known that York was going to die and had probably pumped him full of drugs, even after the armor’s warning had tried to stop him.

“I’m here to be your guide in the afterlife,” The man continued. If York had to guess, he’d assume the man was an angel, despite the lack of wings and a halo. “Now, where do you think you deserve to go?”

If this really was the afterlife, then did that mean Carolina was here too? York felt hope flutter in his chest and he tensed in anticipation of seeing her again. He thought about where he should end up based on his actions. Probably Hell. Yeah, most definitely Hell.

“Wherever Carolina is,” He said again. His guide looked at him curiously.

“Caroline Church, daughter of Leonard Church. You want to be where she is?”

“Yeah, like if she’s in Hell, put me there. I don’t care,” He elaborated. The man frowned.

“Hmm. I’ll see what I can do,” With that, he turned on his heel and left, the door swinging shut behind him. Well, he hadn’t outright said no. York shrugged his vest off, unbuttoning his shirt, and looked at his chest. Instead of finding two bloody messes, he found two neat holes, shining with a faint golden light. He touched the uppermost one gently with a finger. He felt a tingling sensation radiate from the wound.

He had no way to determine how long he had been waiting for; did the concept of time even exist in the afterlife? Or was it just his own mind telling him that seconds, minutes, even hour were passing while he was stuck in this room.

After what York thought to be awhile, the door opened again. In his hand was a rolled up sheet of paper.

“Approved,” He said, giving it to York, “Just sign here.” He pointed to a spot on the bottom of what appeared to be a contract. He fished a pen out of his pocket, handing it to York as well.

York skimmed over the document. He wasn’t stupid, he always read over important documents. Something about not interfering too much, keeping strictly to protecting his own patron...  He stared down at the last line. ‘ _By signing this document, you hereby agree to follow all of the rules, regulations, and guidelines of the Guardian Angel code._ ’

Guardian angel? He had been asked to go where Carolina went! Did she become a guardian angel for some reason? He wondered who it could possibly be for.

“Carolina is a guardian angel?” He asked. The other man’s eyebrows rose.

“What gives you that idea?”

“Well, I asked to be where she was, and you give me this contract that says I’m gonna become a guardian angel-”

“Mr. York, Miss Carolina is very much alive. I thought you were aware of that fact. I had to pull a few strings, especially given your track record, but I managed to obtain a contract for you to be her guardian angel.” York zoned out. Carolina was alive?

“But… she was thrown off a cliff…” He choked out.

“Ah, yes. We were near certain she was going to join the ranks of the dead after that one. She’s a clever one, though, I’ll give her that. Pulled that grappling hook out fast as a blink. Saved her own skin,” He smiled. York blinked a few times, his brain working to process the information.

The angel tapped the contract lightly. York breathed a sigh, picking up the pen. Was his hand shaking? It never shook like that. Not even when he was picking an extremely hard lock and his team was dying around him did it shake. His hands were always steady, always reliable.

He honestly didn’t know if he was relieved or regretful. A mix of both, maybe. If he had only known Carolina was alive, then… then maybe he wouldn’t have been so reckless. Maybe he wouldn’t have died so readily.

He remembered telling D that he wished she would have let things go. That he should as well. Should he just end it now, let her go? It was simple; just don’t sign the paper. As much as he thought that would be the better option and how easy he told himself it was, he couldn’t will his hand to move the pen away from the paper. He watched himself sign his name. As the curve of the ‘d’ in Youngblood was completed, finishing off his name, darkness slammed over his vision.

 

 


	2. Got An Eye On You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> York manages to find Carolina.

York found himself standing in the middle of a shit storm. He yelped, moving to roll out of the way of a stray bullet. In normal circumstances, he would have been hit from that shot. He would have been clutching his side to keep from bleeding out. As it was, the bullet went straight through him. It didn’t tear through flesh and bone; it just _went through him_. He looked down at himself. He _seemed_ substantial, but that had clearly been proven otherwise.

Well, he guessed the man definitely hadn’t been bullshitting the whole afterlife thing.

He glanced around the battlefield, taking in everything he could in an instant. It was a crucial skill to have when in a line of work that involved split second life or death decisions and actions. He caught a flash of teal and immediately ran towards it.

“Carolina!” He called, then stopped up short. That wasn’t Carolina, he could tell that within a few seconds of getting a good look. The soldier had a completely different armor type. Not to mention their arm was blown off and red blood leaked out of the gaping wound. He wrinkled his nose as the strong smell of iron hit his nostrils. He backed away, once again surveying his surrounding, this time more slowly.

As he took the moment to slow down, he realized he felt something on his back. Something that he could control using muscles that hadn’t been there before. He flexed the new muscles, making the two new appendages stretch out. He looked over his shoulder and found white, feathery wings. He let out a yelp of shock, his wings reacting with him and stretching wide.

A catch of light on the roof of a nearby building, made from brown stones, grabbed his attention. Light blue armor. He recognized the helmet’s thinner visor, the way the Freelancer was lying. Like she was braced to run at a moment's notice, to roll straight off the roof and land on her feet. He began sprinting, the remembered his new body parts. He slowed, slowly flapping them. It wasn’t like he ran the risk of falling to his death anymore, so why not?

He quickened the speed at which he beat his wings and felt his feet leave the ground. He was hovering. This wasn’t too unlike using a jetpack. Where was the forward throttle on these things? He leaned forward and adjusted the angle of his wings. He moved forward, hesitantly, but soon he was moving swiftly. He aimed for Carolina…

...And crashed into the brick wall right below her. Damn it, this was harder than it looked. He sat up, rubbing the the place on his forehead that had collided with the side of the building. It was more out of habit than anything else, seeing as he didn’t actually feel pain. He stood, once again trying to fly up to Carolina. With quite a bit of wobbling, he managed to land unceremoniously next to Carolina.

“Carolina,” He said, grinning down at her. She didn’t move. She didn’t even seem to hear. The smile faltered and he tapped lightly on her shoulder. It twitched, the faintest of movements. Still, she gave no voluntary reaction. “Carolina, why won’t you talk to me?”

He was so focused on her, he didn’t notice the bullet whizzing towards them. It passed her about an inch too far to the right. He cursed loudly as he realized he was in it’s way now. As it passed through his leg, he slapped a palm to his forehead. Right. Not a living thing. That was going to take some getting used to.

As he lowered his hand a thought dawned on him. He could touch himself, but nothing of the living world could touch him. It also seemed that he could touch anything, seeing as how his hand hadn’t gone through Carolina’s shoulder and he’d bounced off the wall.

“So, ‘Lina. I don’t think you can hear me. That’s the only explanation, since no one can resist my honey-sweet voice.” He sat down on the edge of the roof, his feet dangling over the edge. “And I don’t think you can see me either. But maybe you can feel me, if only a little bit.”

She fired a shot. The sound of it rang in his ears. A man down below crumpled to his knees, holding his chest. That was his girl; she always found her mark. She shot again and another went down. York watched, marvelling at her accuracy. She was as brilliant as ever.

“Nice shootin’, Tex,” he said. “Well, not Tex. Yeah, you’d probably have punched me if you heard that. I guess I should thank my lucky stars.”

With a few more shots the last enemy was felled and Carolina stood up.

“Hmph. Woulda thought it’d be harder than that,” she smirked. She jumped down from the roof, landing in a crouch. York dropped down beside her, resisting the urge to crouch as well.

York heard a shot and turned to see what Carolina was aiming at. Instead, he saw a bullet pierce the undersuit just below her helmet. He shouted out to her but she fell onto her knees, then down to the ground. But.. she had killed them all, hadn’t she? York looked back to the place the bullet would have come from, based on trajectory, and saw a man reloading his gun. York turned back to Carolina, kneeling beside her. How had he failed so horribly at being a guardian angel? He wasn’t even a day into the job and his charge was dead. He hadn’t saved her from Project Freelance, and he hadn’t saved her now. Twice, he’d failed. Twice. Even once was unacceptable. Not when Carolina needed him.

He reached and gently touched the wound. Her blood soon coated his fingers. He bit his lip to keep from crying. It didn’t work. He felt tears roll down his face. His body racked with a short sob which he struggled to force back down.

He forced himself to relax and keep a calm head. He was a guardian angel, right? Wasn’t there some legend about tears of an angel healing wounds or something? He leaned his head over her wound, watching as a tear dangled off the tip of his nose. _Come on, drop_. He waited, holding his breath. Finally, after several painfully long seconds, it dropped into the wound. He waited, staring at it with extreme intensity.

Nothing happened. Carolina was dead. The legends were all bullshit. He cried out in frustration. Why couldn’t he protect the woman he cared so much about, even with supposedly supernatural powers. He closed his eyes, making a fist.

When he opened them again, he was on the roof, Carolina beside him.

“Hmph. Woulda that it’d be harder than that.” This had already happened. Or had it? Was that part of his power, to turn back time? If so, how had he done it? He watched as Carolina jumped off the roof again. He was going to protect her this time.

He followed her down, and looked at the gunman. His mind work rapidly, but not fast enough. The man shot, and all York could do was throw out a wing in a hopeless attempt to block the bullet.

White-hot pain lanced through him as the bullet collided with his wing.

“Fuck!” he shouted, curling it inwards in pain.

“What the hell?” Carolina turned, saw the source of the bullet, and shot him through the arm. He dropped his gun, cursing. She stalked closer, her sights trained on him to deal a finishing blow. York sucked in a breath, standing and following despite the pain. It was subsiding, thankfully.

“Alright, talk, buddy,” she said, pushing him over with her foot and planting it on his chest, “What do you know about the former director of Project Freelancer?”

“N-nothing, I swear-” He gulped as Carolina’s foot pressed down harder.

“I know you know something. You and your buddies have been tracking him down.”

“L-look, I really don’t know, we didn’t find anything about him! All we found was some information on an ex-freelancer-”

“Ex-freelancer?” Carolina cut him off yet again.

“David Washington. He was working as a recovery agent, then teamed up with the Meta to hunt down some Simulation troopers. We still don’t know why. His last known location was Sidewinder,” he said in a rush. “That’s all I know, I _swear_.”

“Thanks. You’ve been a great help,” she said, then shot him through the helmet. York winced. She began walking away and York hurried to follow. Wash was alive, too. That was good news.

“So, ‘Lina,” he spoke to her even though she couldn’t hear him, “next stop Sidewinder?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the giant delay on this chapter. Expect more of it, sadly, since most of my writing energy is going to be put into my novel for NaNoWriMo for the next month.

**Author's Note:**

> Tags will be updated as I post more chapters! I plan on probably having Tuckington and Grimmons, and possibly CarWash Siblings.


End file.
